


sacred games

by tagteamme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bondage So Light You Barely See It, Dom!Shiro, First Time, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, I Hate Capitalizing Tags, M/M, Post S6, exploratory, general softness, light Dom/sub dynamics, sub!Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/pseuds/tagteamme
Summary: Keith wants to take care of Shiro, and does it the only way he knows how— by letting Shiro take care of him.Keith wants to comfort him, wants to tell him that no one in the entire team doubts Shiro’s ability to pull through for them if needed. Wants to tell him that his own faith in Shiro is unwavering, wants to tell him that Shiro’s been heroic enough for a thousand lifetimes.But he knows Shiro won’t fully absorb it, that those words won’t sink in the way they should. He drags his hand and presses his thumb into the knob of Shiro’s spine, and gets an idea.





	sacred games

**Author's Note:**

> Just something soft for your weekend! Also another one of my "let me pour out some head canons in a fic because meta posts are hard" fics

Shiro blurts it out in the quiet of what substitutes as night. Keith doesn’t know if he means to, doesn’t know if he means it like _that_. But they’re sitting in the cockpit of Black, watching the stars stretch out in front of them as they edge slowly out of this galaxy. Four other lions hang back in their periphery, and this leg of the trip has been almost peaceful.

“I think I’ve lost my footing,” Shiro says as Keith idly reads some of the numbers running across the screen. The words don’t register at first but when they do, it doesn’t take Keith long to pick up on the meaning.

“Don’t say that,” Keith frowns at Shiro. He wants to lean over and touch, but Shiro looks far away and he doesn’t want to startle him. “You know everyone else still looks up to you.”

“I can’t protect them though,” Shiro replies quietly. Keith decides to redact his earlier observation and lean over to place his hand on the back of Shiro’s neck. He rubs a circle, but Shiro still looks downcast. Keith wants to comfort him, wants to tell him that no one in the entire team doubts Shiro’s ability to pull through for them if needed. Wants to tell him that his own faith in Shiro is unwavering, wants to tell him that Shiro’s been heroic enough for a thousand lifetimes.

But he knows Shiro won’t fully absorb it, that those words won’t sink in the way they should. He drags his hand and presses his thumb into the knob of Shiro’s spine, and gets an idea.  
  
  


* * *

   
  
It starts with a simple question.

“Can you help me?” Keith asks, and Shiro looks up from his tablet.

Krolia and the wolf are sitting watch in the cockpit above and Keith and Shiro are alone in what is supposed to be a storage room, but has been turned into a makeshift lounge. Shiro’s sitting at a desk, while Keith’s draped across a couple of crates with a cloth thrown across it.

“What do you need?” Shiro asks while Keith sits up slowly, groaning as he moves. It’s exaggerated to an almost embarrassing degree, especially since Keith knows that he’s already got Shiro’s attention, but Keith does it to hide his own embarrassment.

“I think I’ve bruised something,” Keith says. “Can you take a look at it?”

It’s not fully a lie. He _knows_ he’s bruised something, and it’s taking a little longer to heal than normal. Keith knows that Shiro will see the yellow tinge of the mottled skin and know it’s old, that Keith’s had plenty of time to figure out there’s a baseball-sized mark curling around the back of his hip.

“Yeah,” Shiro says, locking his tablet quickly.

Keith’s right— as soon as they make it to the healing bay and Shiro instructs him to lift up his shirt, Shiro gives him an exasperated eye roll.

“You only noticed this _now_?” Shiro asks, voice flat with just the slightest tinge of amusement. Keith gives a non-committal shrug from where he sits on a surgical table, and pops open the lid of a small tub of healing salve. Shiro reaches over and pries the jar from his hands while Keith gives the world’s most half-hearted protest. Shiro sets the jar down on the table, and Keith tries hard not to look as he swirls two fingers in the grease.

Shiro is gentle but firm as he massages the salve into Keith’s skin. Keith makes a small sound when Shiro presses especially hard into the centre of the bruise, and Shiro mistakes it for discomfort.

“Shh,” he says soothingly, easing up the pressure of his fingers. “Easy there. See?”

Keith only pretends to register what he’s looking at when he glances down at his skin. It’s more important that he sneaks a look at Shiro; and when he does, there’s something that’s changed in Shiro. His face is still soft, still looking at Keith with a small smile, but his shoulders are squared and he’s standing a little taller.

It worked, Keith crows to himself. To a small degree but— it worked.

* * *

   
  
It plays to both their interests. Keith’s priority is taking care of Shiro. It’s been that way for so long that it’s embedded into his bones. One of the ways he can take care of Shiro is to let Shiro take care of him. Shiro’s the only person Keith’s ever allowed to have any form of control over him, and Keith wants to see if amplifying it will help Shiro feel more grounded.

Keith asks for Shiro’s help in parsing through data of a local starfield. It’s not of any particular importance, but he doesn’t drop the task till it’s Shiro that tells him that it’s not worth the effort and gives him something else to do. Keith shows him a stark line of scratches on his forearm from playing with the wolf, pretends it smarts when Shiro runs a finger over it, lets Shiro rub a cream onto it to soothe it. Waits for Shiro to tug gently on his hair and asks him when he’s going to cut it.

He keeps it small, keeps it simple. Keith makes sure he doesn’t undermine himself in front of the others. He thinks his mother might have an inkling as to what’s going on, because she knows Keith doesn’t actually need permission to open up a line of communication of Pidge. She doesn’t say anything though, just gives him an amused smile over Shiro’s shoulder as he tells Keith to go ahead.

This is a good time as any to do it. They have a little while till they reach a solar system with any civilization, and they haven’t picked up any cruisers headed their way. In the precious, quiet time they have, Keith wants Shiro to heal. So he lets go of minute amounts of his own self-sufficiency. But only for Shiro, because Shiro’s the only one that will know that this is not a weakness.  
  
 

* * *

  
  
Keith knows he’s a little clumsy about it, knows there might be a line that he’s toeing, but there’s no definitive guide to letting go that’s floating around in their database. He’s trying his best, trying to approach everything in whatever way feels right, whatever way eases the lines in Shiro’s face when he gazes out of Black’s windshield.

He picks at his food one night. Keith doesn’t actually care about what he eats; having something on his plate is enough for him.

They’re sitting in the makeshift lounge, Krolia sitting on one side of Keith and Shiro sitting on the other, studiously pretending he’s not sneaking bits of goo to the wolf. Romelle’s there as well, as is Coran, because Allura took on the most amount of people in her lion and needs some time to think on her own.

“Is everything okay?” His mother nudges him, and Keith nods. He can see Shiro turn to him out of his periphery.  “You’ve barely eaten.”

“I’m fine,” he says, looking down at his plate. Krolia narrows her eyes and looks at him with concern that he knows she’ll want to address later on. For now, Romelle asks her a question from across the room and she redirects her attention.

Keith waits patiently for a beat, for two beats. Hopes Shiro picks up. He feels the solid press of a warm thigh against the line of his, and the soft bump of a shoulder.

“Eat,” Shiro says quietly, low enough for only Keith to hear. “You need the energy.”

The firmness of the words unclasps the hand around Keith’s heart and he obediently drags the spoon through his plate. He has a feeling Shiro knows what Keith’s trying to do, but he’s going to avoid putting words to it for as long as possible.  
  
 

* * *

  
  
Keith starts to feel better too. He observes how Shiro’s voice wavers less when he addresses the team, how he’s sounding like his old self. Keith sees the slump start to vanish again from how Shiro holds himself, even when he’s relaxed.

He asks Shiro for help in trimming his hair where he can’t see it, watches silently as Shiro pays more attention with one hand than Keith does with both of his. Shiro puts the small scissors down and spans his hand across the junction of Keith’s neck, squeezing and kneading the hard muscle till Keith has to close his eyes and hang his head before he makes a sound.

Keith sees the unsure edges around Shiro find their focus again. Keith will love Shiro either way but he can’t deny that he feels a bit of pride when he sees how Shiro holds himself with more certainty. He’s doing this for Shiro, but it warms him like honey in a way that’s slowly hard for him to hide.  
  
 

* * *

  
  
It grows indiscernible in the middle of one of their sleep cycles. The quarters aren’t large in Black, and they aren’t too far apart. It works in Keith’s favour, because he has a dream where his knife slips and he accidentally lets go.

They’re back at the facility and everything is crumbling around them. The bright white light below is blinding and threatens to burn Keith’s eyes out if he looks at anything but Shiro. There’s a loud crack above him and his knife drops and Keith has no control over his other hand as it starts to shake with the weight of the man it’s holding. In this dream, the joints of his fingers start to ache, start to weaken and tremble and threaten to give out.

He screams out Shiro’s name and tries to grip tighter but his wrist spasms _hard_ and Shiro slides through his grip like butter. He falls. It’s second nature to let go and follow Shiro into the light— and when Keith wakes up, his heart is thundering in his throat, barely preventing him from choking out a scream.

Keith heaves, gasps, feels a trickle of sweat form at his temple. He stares wide-eyed at the wall ahead of him, and there’s a small _pop!_ in the air as his wolf materializes on his bed. Immediately, Keith finds himself with a face full of fur and a large tongue slobbering over his face as his wolf paws at him with concern.

He shifts his fingers to scratch the back of her head and buries his face in her neck. Keith doesn’t cry because this isn’t the first time he’s had this nightmare, but he still hiccups as he tries to regain his breathing.

“I saved him,” He tells her, and she agrees by licking a large stripe across his forehead. “I saved him. He’s okay.”

It takes him five minutes to fully calm down and not have a shiver run through him at random. The wolf doesn’t stop nudging him and leaving sloppy kisses all over his face until his heartbeat’s returned to normal and his iron grip around her has lessened. But Keith can’t fall back asleep. He’s too wired and knows he will be until he sees Shiro in person. Normally, he lays awake until the alarm signalling the end of his sleep-cycle goes off, but Keith feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.

It’s not long till he finds himself staring at the door of Shiro’s quarters. There’s a keypad beside it, but Keith decides to knock. He’s not quite sure what he’s going to say— he’s not quite sure what he expects Shiro to do. He knows if he tells Shiro about his nightmares, Shiro will comfort him like any good friend would. Shiro will show concern, will tell Keith that–

“Keith?” The door’s opened and Shiro stands in the frame, looking sleepily at Keith. Keith blinks back into the present, and opens his mouth.

Nothing seems to come out.

“Are you okay?” Shiro frowns and steps forward, and that’s enough for Keith. He launches himself forward, wrapping his arms around Shiro in a tight hug. Shiro lets out a soft “ _woah_ ” as he staggers backwards slightly, steadying the two of them with an arm wrapped around Keith’s waist.

“I had a nightmare,” Keith’s voice is muffled against skin, and the last thing he wants to do is draw back and make eye contact. “I keep losing you in my dreams.”

The arm around his waist tightens, and Keith buries his face deeper into Shiro’s chest.

“It’s okay,” Shiro murmurs gently, tilting his head so that Keith can feel his breath ghost across his scalp. “It’s okay Keith, you saved me. You saved me. I’m here.”

Keith knows that. Keith knows that the Shiro he’s holding onto is solid and real and the man who he places above all else. He feels stupid for getting racked up over a dream, but he reminds himself that he allows himself to be vulnerable around Shiro.

Shiro slowly spins them around in the doorway and starts walking Keith backwards till his calves hit the bed. He gently pries Keith off of him, and pushes down on his shoulder till he’s sitting on the mattress.

“Do you–” Shiro begins, but cuts himself off when Keith looks up at him. He inhales as he stares down at Keith, and shakes his head. “Stay here tonight.”

It comes out firmer with no questioning lilt, and Keith nods without thinking.  
  
 

* * *

 

Keith shares a bed again with Shiro the next night. And the night after that. They start the night with their backs pressed against each other, but Keith wakes up wrapped around Shiro like an octopus. Shiro doesn’t seem to mind, only teases Keith and playfully ruffles his fingers through his hair before telling him he’s got drool down his chin.

On the fourth night, Keith doesn’t even bother stopping by his own room first.

* * *

  
  
The team’s coming closer and closer to a system whose fourth planet from the sun has a moon with a friendly ally on it. It’s slow going, even with the speed of the lions, but there’s barely been any interruptions. They have a short skirmish with a rogue cruiser, but Lance puts a hole through it before Keith can even think about forming Voltron. They have a few more cycles before they reach civilization, and Keith’s cherishing the quiet.

He knows the situation might look odd to anyone looking in from the outside, so he keeps that window as closed up as possible. Shiro curls his fingers through his hair when he has a nightmare, and tells him to sit up straighter when they’re sitting watch in the cockpit.

One morning, Krolia casually observes that she had knocked on the door to Keith’s room, only to find his bed empty. She tells Keith that she would have been worried about it, if she hadn’t remembered seeing Keith go into Shiro’s room for a talk. Keith feels his cheeks burn and tells her it’s not like _that_ , and tells her that he’s just been having nightmares about Shiro and needs the comfort. She gives him a bemused look, before shrugging and spooning more food goo into her mouth.

“I’m glad to see you’re listening to _someone_ at least,” She teases gently, Keith grows bright red at the words.  
  
 

* * *

   
  
It’s not like _that_ , Keith knows. But he doesn’t know what _it_ is. The way he feels is not quantifiable enough to be bottled up and labeled into something easy to manage.

During the day, they’re almost inseparable. When Keith feels stressed out, he finds himself anchoring by placing a hand on Shiro’s back. No one else seems to notice, but Keith feels like he’s closer to Shiro than he’s ever been before.

Shiro idly plays with the long hair at the nape of Keith’s neck as he sits at a table in the green lion, talking with Pidge and Hunk about what they’ve been trying to engineer on the long journey so far. The escapade the rest of the team went on when Shiro was still healing has given them enough confidence and a can-do attitude to continue developing better shields for their lions.

Keith feels a gentle tug as Shiro asks about the viability of a certain material, and he’s suddenly acutely aware that they’re sitting so close they’re practically sharing the chair. No one else says anything, and Hunk makes fun of a scratch Pidge got on her nose instead of anything related to Keith. Knowing how neither of them ever miss an opportunity, Keith wonders just how used to this the rest of the team is.

At night, they’ve given up all pretenses on starting the night apart. Shiro draps an arm across Keith’s stomach as he dozes off, and Keith props his head against Shiro’s chest as he flicks through information on a tablet. Sometimes the wolf gives his mother company in the cockpit, and sometimes she sits curled up between them, acting like a furnace. It’s the most comfortable Keith’s felt in a while, and by the way that the bags under Shiro’s eyes have almost faded, he knows he feels similar.

Something else picks at Keith though.

He hasn’t asked Shiro about the fight, hasn’t bothered asking how much he’s remembered past or how much control he had over his own self. Keith’s tiptoed around something very specific, but the more time they spend in each other’s space, closer than they ever have been before, the more it threatens to unearth itself.

He’s always tamped it down as something that, in the grander scheme of things, doesn’t hold as much importance as the fact that Shiro’s back and regaining his health. And he knows that there’s always been a deeper intimacy to their friendship than most. But spending his days beside Shiro and knowing how it feels to wake up with his hair in his mouth has started to chip away at the restraint Keith’s worked so hard at building up from before Kerberos.

“Shiro,” he says one night, more into the dark than towards the other man. He’s on his side and Shiro’s on his back, his right side snug against Keith.

“Yeah?” Shiro half-yawns from behind him. Keith rolls over and Shiro makes space for him. It’s easier to talk when Shiro’s face is half in the shadows and half under the light of the dim green stripe above the bed, but Keith still shifts uncomfortably. It takes him a moment before he can find the words.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he says slowly, and can see Shiro’s brows pinch in the shadows. Waiting makes the game more painful, so Keith barrels forward. “But I wanted to know if you remember the fight at the facility.”

There’s a long silence that echoes through the small room. Shiro’s expression doesn’t change, but Keith can feel him go rigid. He’s about to apologize, about to crawl over Shiro to slink back to his own room, when Shiro finally replies.

“I do,” he says quietly. “I remember everything.”

“Everything?” Keith asks, and Shiro nods. “Including–”

“Everything,” Shiro repeats.

Keith doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or anxious, and realized he hasn’t planned this far. The fact that he loves Shiro is nothing new, nothing Shiro hasn’t known from before. But intrinsically, the words felt different, felt heavier when he had blurted it out on the crumbling platform. He needs to know if Shiro felt the difference too but he doesn’t know what he’ll do once he finds out.

“Keith,” Shiro says, and Keith feels a rough palm slide over his shoulder, pushing down their shared blanket. “I can hear you think.”

“I–” Keith starts, but he can’t bring himself to form anything that has a defined path. He lets out a frustrated exhale and tries again, determined to say something coherent.  “You–”

He’s saved the trouble of stuttering out anything further by Shiro pushing forward and rolling Keith onto his back. It takes Keith by surprise, but one hand automatically drifts to Shiro’s hip while the other wraps around his shoulders. Shiro must take that as the right signal, and dips down.

Shiro is trying to be chaste with it, but Keith opens up automatically. He doesn’t want to let Shiro go, doesn’t think they deserve a short peck on the lips as their first kiss, so he pulls Shiro as close as he possibly can. Shiro goes with it, dropping his weight onto Keith’s torso and punching the air out of him. When Keith gasps, Shiro kisses his bottom lip and for all his inexperience, Keith resists from sliding his tongue in. The kiss turns into a nip before Shiro deepens it, and Keith has to curl his finger in white hair to steady his heart.

He feels like he’s floating, like this too is a dream. But Shiro kisses in a very real way, opening up Keith slowly till it’s messy and his lips are slick.

“I love you too,” Shiro gasps as they break apart. Keith can hear him panting, and feels comfort in knowing he’s not the only one that’s extremely keyed up. “I love you too.”

* * *

   
  
Keith knows that there’s going to be a visible difference in the way they act now. The hand on his neck now draws him in instead of fiddling with his hair or rubbing circles into his spine. When Shiro hugs him, he holds on longer than usual, sneaks in a kiss if no one’s looking at them. They have a group dinner again as they draw closer to their destination, and Shiro lets Keith rest his hand on his thigh under the table the entire time. No one notices, but it’s fine.

The mornings are lazier, even though they shouldn’t be. Shiro’s been running a course of physical training with Krolia to get used to being in a corporeal form again, and the first time he stumbles in late to a session, Keith can hear her cackling all the way from where he’s firmly stationed in the cockpit. Shiro and Keith had just spent their morning wrapped around each other, kissing gently and whispering to each other, but Shiro still leaves his session with his ears a bright red.

Keith doesn’t have time to dwell on how it feels; he accepts the thrumming happiness that’s wrapped around his heart, accepts it for what it is. Transitioning into this with Shiro feels natural, doesn’t feel like something he needs to get used to because it’s been planting its seeds for years and has finally taken root.

It’s nice, too, being able to finally physically touch Shiro like this. Keith doesn’t push for more than just a kiss, even if that entails him cornering Shiro whenever he can to steal his breath away. Shiro’s more than compliant and willing, and laughs into Keith’s mouth whenever he gets too eager. Keith doesn’t have a lot of technique to begin with, but he figures that he’ll be able to refine it with Shiro’s help. It’s sweet and it’s innocent and it stands in contrast to the giant battering they’ve both taken in the past.

And it changes when they’re four cycles away from their destination and three large warships barrel out of a wormhole and towards the team. The ensuing scrimmage is fast and brutal, and the team takes a massive hit before Keith can yell at them to form Voltron. He leads them into tearing through two of the warships with all the determination of a starving animal fighting for food. By the time they turn their face on the third, everyone’s got blue fire ripping through their veins. They’re so, _so_ close to civilization and Keith’s going to be damned if he lets anything stop them right now.

By the end of it, there’s nothing but debris floating through the air, remnants of whatever Galra splinter cell had dared to descend on them at a time where they were desperate for solid ground. The fight was rough and by the time they disband, the adrenaline wears off and Keith can hear the weariness take over everyone’s voice. Keith’s not the best at motivational speeches, but before he disconnects the comms, he tells everyone they’ll be fine, that they’re close, that if they survived something like that, they’ll make it to the moon in one piece.

He does this as both Shiro and Krolia look on, Shiro placing a grounding hand on Keith’s shoulder. Krolia had dropped into a small cruiser to provide stealth support, and Shiro had buckled himself into the seat behind Keith’s, yelling out orders in the rare moments Keith had faltered. It had worked well, and their dance in command had been crucial to the team’s victory. The team thanks Keith and in turn, he thanks them before disconnecting. He pulls off his helmet and sits in his chair for a moment, trying to focus on the sweat matting his bangs to his forehead so that his breathing returns to normal.

He looks back at his mother and she nods minutely before crooking the corner of her mouth. He’s been lucky that he’s spent enough time with her to know that’s how she looks like when she’s proud of him, and she pushes the damp hair off his forehead before she leaves.

Shiro squeezes his shoulder and leans down; Keith’s more than willing to meet him halfway, and hunger nips at him when their lips meet. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to turn slick, even at the weird angle Shiro’s bent down. Keith feels Shiro’s tongue press heavy and insistent against the seam of his lips and knows something is changing again. Keith can feel it. It curls low in his belly when Shiro draws back and gives him a heated gaze.

And he knows it for sure when the door to their quarters closes behind him and Shiro’s immediately pressing him up against it, pulling apart both their chest plates with one hand till he can start to tug on Keith’s body suit. He wedges a thick thigh in between Keith’s legs and even though Keith’s taller now, it’s still enough to send him up on his tiptoes. Keith rolls down on his thigh, slotting their hips closer together, and Shiro moans into the kiss.

He shifts his hand to grab Keith’s hip and make Keith repeat the move, tilting his hips upwards so that they both get the most amount of friction. Keith helps Shiro by yanking down their suits till they’re both exposed, till it’s skin on skin and there’s a hard heat against him that makes Keith unravel.

Shiro comes first, his fingers digging a bruise into Keith as he shapes a groan around his name. Instead of drawing away, he presses closer to Keith and grinds against him for all he’s worth. It’s molten and it’s primal and it’s messy, and Keith makes a non-human sound when he comes.

Something’s changed, and Keith’s hungry for it. And by the way that Shiro looks at him, Keith knows that he is too.

 

* * *

  
  
It burns.

It’s intimate and it’s heated and it’s wet and Keith’s body is _burning_ as Shiro slowly sinks him down onto his lap. Shiro’s sitting against the headboard of the bed, one thick forearm wrapped around Keith’s waist to draw his back against to Shiro’s chest. He whispers into Keith’s ear about how good he is, how good he feels, how Shiro’s going to take care of him till he can’t remember his own name. Keith arches, and that arm drifts up to smooth over his chest as Shiro kisses the crook of his neck.

Keith wants to touch badly. He wants to run his fingers through Shiro’s hair, wants to plant his other hand on Shiro’s thigh as an anchor because Shiro’s moving torturously slow and the feeling of getting filled is quickly becoming addictive.

Keith can do all this if he wants to— the rope that’s keeping his hands tied behind his back is only loosely knotted, and Shiro’s told him multiple times that he can break free any time he wants to. But he wants to make sure that whatever control Shiro’s established, he gets to keep.

Shiro already brought Keith off with his mouth a few minutes earlier, slow and easy, and Keith has to bite his lip hard to stop any over stimulated sounds from leaving his mouth. He’s boneless as it is, but his interest is getting more and more evident and Keith doesn’t know how he’s going to survive this.

So he scrunches his eyes shut and tries to not be too loud as Shiro eases in. It had been one thing to have Shiro open him up languidly with his hand, hovering above him and murmuring encouragement into Keith’s ear as Keith bit a pillow and tried to muffle his moans. It’s another thing to have Shiro in him, almost possessive in how thick and heavy he is.

“Good?” Shiro asks from behind him, the words vibrating across his skin. Keith nods, trying not to make any of the sudden loud sounds that are bubbling up within him. He can feel the muscles in his thighs strain, and he lets out a sharp exhale as Shiro rocks up slowly.

Keith finds himself getting lifted up again, and sees Shiro reaching for the salve out of the periphery. He closes his eyes and counts to ten before he starts to sit himself down again. This time, Shiro’s slick enough to bottom out, and Keith goes a little cross-eyed when he’s fully in.

“Shit,” he swears, and Shiro rolls his hips, grinding leisurely into Keith. “Shir-Shiro,”

“I’m right here.” There’s a strain in Shiro’s voice, and Keith can feel the heat radiating against his back. He tips his head back onto Shiro’s shoulder as he tries to get adjusted, and feels Shiro’s hand crawl up to wrap softly around his throat.

Keith tries to lift himself up onto his knees the slightest amount, and the drag of it has him rolling his eyes back slowly. It sends sparks shooting through the rest of his body and it feels like he’s on fire when he tries to seat himself again. Shiro groans behind him, and Keith repeats the motion just to hear it again. On the third try, Shiro meets him halfway, his hold around Keith’s neck squeezing just enough for Keith to feel the pressure.

It sets a slow, unhurried pace, and it doesn’t take long for Keith to get used to it. It doesn’t take long for him to get fully hard again either.  It still feels like a dream but Keith would rather live in it forever than bother to check. Shiro moves in a way that has Keith crumbling in the best way possible, and he has no intention in interrupting that.

“You feel so good,” Shiro says, and Keith lets the praise wash over him. “You’re so good to me baby, you’re so good for me, you’ve always been so good–”

“I’ve always been yours,” Keith manages to choke out, and he feels Shiro snap his hips _hard_ underneath him at the words. He can’t help the loud moan he lets out at it, and Shiro repeats the motion, jolting Keith upwards with the power of it. “I only want to be yours, Shiro.”

His head’s still barely resting on Shiro’s shoulder, but Keith arches just enough to bare his neck for Shiro. Shiro finds a patch of skin not covered by his hands and sinks his teeth lightly into it as he thrusts up into Keith again. Keith has to dig his nails into the meat of his palms so that he resists all temptation to break free from the light bindings.

The rope had been his idea, and Shiro had shown some reservation in using it, given that it was their first time doing something like this. But Keith is very singular in his intentions, very determined to let Shiro feel like he has as much control as possible. They found a middle ground by making the ties loose and easily  escapable, and Keith thinks that it’s more torturous exercising self control and not breaking free while Shiro’s taking him apart so beautifully.

“You can give me more,” Keith breathes, lolling his head so that he can plant a wet kiss underneath Shiro’s ear. “I can take it. I _want_ to take it.”

To emphasize his point, he raises up off Shiro till he’s almost halfway out, and then sits down hard and fast. It knocks the air out of his lungs and he can’t help the way Shiro’s name falls from his lips. The hand around his throat squeezes, and Keith feels Shiro drop weight into his elbow, pinning Keith down onto his lap.

“I’ll be the one that tells you what you can take,” Shiro says lowly, and Keith inhales sharply. His toes curl at the tone of the words, but Shiro freezes behind him. Keith can sense the panic rolling off of him, and he’s determined as all hell to hold on to the sharp new bolt of desire that’s struck him, so he twists out of the ropes and tosses them off the bed.

“Keith?” Shiro’s hand automatically drops from his neck, but Keith focuses on pulling off of him and turning around. “Shit, Keith, I’m so-”

Keith yanks Shiro into a kiss, one more heated than they’ve had all night. He dives into it tongue first and uses the sloppiness of it to distract Shiro as he pulls him forward.

“Give it to me,” Keith says between the kisses. He starts to drop backwards and Shiro follows, pressing him into the mattress. “Tell me what I can take. Show me what I can have.”

Keith’s on his back now and he lets his legs fall apart to accommodate Shiro’s big body. He reaches between them for Shiro and starts guiding him towards Keith again. Shiro groans as the head presses in again, and Keith tries to push his hips and take more of Shiro in. Whatever he’s trying works because Shiro wrenches Keith’s hand off of him in an impressive show of strength. Keith’s wrist gets pinned above his head and before Keith can egg him on, Shiro surges forward, sliding home in one smooth go that has Keith scrunching his eyes shut.

A soft sound slips from Keith as he hitches his leg up, opening himself up more as he tries to wrap it around Shiro’s waist. Shiro releases Keith’s wrist and Keith immediately clutches onto Shiro’s shoulders with both hands. Shiro shifts his arm so that he can scoop Keith’s other leg up by the crook of his elbow and fists his hand in the sheets below.

Keith pulls Shiro down for another kiss, just as Shiro decides to move again. He ends up moaning into Shiro’s mouth and feels Shiro smile against him as he thrusts hard enough to shift them up the bed. Shiro feels bigger like this, almost like he can’t fit all the way, and the sheer thought of it has Keith dripping onto his belly.

“More,” Keith manages to make it sound pleading and not demanding, in an attempt to best appeal to the part of Shiro he has been cultivating for the past few weeks. “Shiro, please, I need it, I _need it–_ ”

It works, because Shiro slams forward so hard that Keith almost sees stars. He thinks that he’s going to lose his ability to speak at his rate from the pure strain of having to contain his voice. The mattress squeaks underneath them as Shiro works himself into Keith, making Keith feel more than thoroughly claimed. Shiro shifts himself and angles Keith’s leg just a little differently, and it’s enough for Keith to need to yank him down and muffle a loud yell against the skin of Shiro’s neck.

He can taste the salt as Shiro works up a sweat, can feel his own hair go damp with the exertion. It’s the headiest Keith’s ever felt, and he squeezes his legs, urging Shiro to give him even more. Shiro complies, moving fast and hard and capable in a show of strength he’s always had but hasn’t displayed like _this_ before.

Keith’s growing taut like the string of a bow, and can feel all coherent thought in his brain quickly leave for the exit. He’s only aware of the way Shiro says his name, the way Shiro tells Keith that he takes it so well that Shiro doesn’t know if he can stop giving it to him. Shiro wraps a hand around him, and the edges of Keith’s vision start to brighten.

“You’re doing so well,” Shiro says as he starts to jerk Keith off, moving his fist fast and tight. “You’re doing so well now, you’re going to take it even better for me next time, fuck, _fuck–_ ”

This time, Keith doesn’t bother hiding the loud noise he lets out as he comes, spilling all over Shiro’s hand. Shiro follows shortly after, hiding his moan against Keith’s neck as he finishes inside of him. Keith’s leg slips from his hold and Keith can see the tremor in his arm as Shiro tries to hold himself up, riding out the rest of his end in him. Keith feels over sensitive but lets Shiro slowly come to a halt on his own before he shifts underneath him.

Keith braces himself as Shiro slips out, wincing at how empty it leaves him save for a small ache. They’re still clinging on to each other, trying to catch their breath as they regain some semblance of cohesive thought. Shiro collapses on top of Keith, and Keith wraps his arms around him fully and rolls them onto their sides.

Shiro tips his head and Keith captures him in a kiss, soft and giving. Shiro is completely pliant under his hands; Keith wants to kiss him till they melt into the sheets, wants to roll Shiro onto his back and shower him with at least a tenth of the overwhelming love he feels for him. But Keith’s keenly aware that Shiro needs something else.

“Hey,” He says, running fingers through Shiro’s bangs before tugging at them lightly to give himself a better look at Shiro’s face. “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning me up?”

Shiro blinks for a second, before he shifts his hand down Keith’s hip and across his lower abdomen. It slips in between Keith’s thighs and presses gently against the wetness that’s trickled down. Shiro hums, and a soft smile crawls across his face.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning in to kiss Keith on the cheek, right at the tip of his scar. “Yeah, I’ll take care of you.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
By the time they’re breaking through the atmosphere of the moon, Shiro stands as tall and proud as he had before. Keith sneaks a glance up at him from the pilot’s seat, watching as the soft gold light flooding the cockpit illuminates Shiro’s hair. It shines around him like a halo and when he looks down at Keith, he gives him a small but genuine smile that sends Keith’s heart racing.

“Something on your mind?” Shiro asks, and Keith shakes his head.

“No sir,” he says placidly, and feels Shiro flick the side of his helmet. He laughs and tries to shove Shiro’s hand out of the way, and Shiro only concedes once he’s got a solid few taps in.

Keith’s tempted to ask Shiro if he thinks he’s found his footing again, if he’s feeling sure of himself, if his body feels fully like his own again. But Shiro’s hand finds its final resting place on his shoulder and squeezes, and it’s enough of an answer for Keith.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me or cry about our impending s7 doom with me on [Tumblr](phaltu.tumblr.com) or [Twitter!](twitter.com/tagteamme)


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